


The Ties That Bind

by xbedhead



Category: Justified
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the prompt I received: <i>Arlo & Boyd, a quiet moment before the finale</i>. The work is below. Unbeta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ties That Bind

“I never did care for it none.”

“You know anybody who _likes_ bein’ a mile underground breathin’ in dirt?”

Boyd gave Arlo a toothy grin with his question and the old man smiled back. 

“I’ve known a few,” Arlo answered slowly, pushing his toes down to keep the rocking chair moving. “I know you jump at the chance to blow anything up – you must’ve enjoyed it.”

“I enjoyed the chance to hone my skills at what I sensed could become a lucrative profession.”

Arlo’s smirk widened as he took another sip of his Wild Turkey. “You’re full of _shit_. I see the look on your face when you light up a charge – ain’t nothin’ in the world like doin’ what you love.”

Boyd’s smile softened and he turned in his own rocking chair, eyes gazing out across the rolling flats of the valley where the Givens’ homestead was settled. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

They were quiet for a moment, the squeak of their chairs and the hum from the radio Ava had left going in the kitchen as soft background noise. There was a rifle crack in the distance and a dule of doves shot up from the trees nearby, spooked by the noise or some unseen intruder.

Arlo tipped his tumbler in the direction of the scattering birds. “Raylan used to pull his slingshot on those when he was a boy. Hit a fair amount of ‘em, if I recall.”

“Until he graduated to handguns,” Boyd commented easily, not thinking anything of it one way or another.

“Went to rifles first,” Arlo corrected, squinting as if he was trying to remember something long-lost. “Got him one of those Red Rider types for Christmas once. He’d spend hours out here, shooting at any little target he could cook up. Tin cans, cracked Mason jars – if he’d had a brother, I’m sure he’da shot at him, too.

“Yeah,” Arlo sighed, disappointment heavy in his tone, “there was a time I thought that boy’d really be somethin’.”

“Some might argue that he is,” Boyd started gently, none too sure of where this path was headed. Arlo very rarely opened up about the past – not unless he’d been skipping his meds and talking to the walls – but he felt an uncontrollable urge to stand up for the man whose father had so easily welcomed him into the fold.

“ _Law_ man. _Shit_ ,” Arlo fired back, finishing off his bourbon in one long swallow. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. “Smart as a whip. Coulda done anything he wanted and he chose _that_. Did it just t’spite me, I’m sure.”

Boyd recalled the conversation he’d had some months back when he and Raylan had waxed philosophical about his motivations behind becoming a marshal. He’d been cuffed at the ankles, but it didn’t make their conversation any less true. And it twisted something inside him that he'd heard Arlo compliment Raylan twice in one breath – and to know that Raylan had never been afforded the same opportunity. 

“You’re smart, too, Boyd,” Arlo began seriously. “You’ve got a knack for it, that’s for sure, but you certain this is the road you wanna be headed down?”

Boyd set his half-full tumbler down on the end table between them and faced the old man fully. “Well, Arlo, that’s mighty kind of you, but I think this path was set for me long before I chose to follow it. I’m only too happy to have you by my side as we traverse these murky waters.”

“Proud to walk with you, Boyd. May be getting’ feeble, but I will do anything I can to help you,” he pledged, holding up his empty glass.

As Arlo smiled his crooked smile, Boyd felt something akin to happiness well up within him. “I thank you for that, sir – it means a lot.”

Arlo picked up his bottle and poured himself two more fingers, smacking his lips at what must’ve been the burn on his tongue. “S’what family’s for, son.”


End file.
